An Evening with Maxim Dubois
Posted: 09 Jun 2012, 23:38
“Lay low,” the boss had said, so he did. Maxim took orders very well. Instead of waiting at what had been “his” corner, he now hung out at the abandoned school, waiting for their suppliers. He was nervous, after hearing some of the stories about the deaths and near-deaths of his compatriots, but Maxim was a survivor. Not only had he collected blood for the boss, he had used the blood himself. Armed with both the stolen powers and his trusty Glock, he waited.
“You have no idea the trouble I went through trying to find you.” The crackled voice of an old woman broke the silence. “It’s a good thing I have friends in low places, or else I never would have thought to check here.” She moved from the shadows into the pale light offered by a window. The old woman was hunched over, supporting herself with a cane. Her wild brown hair was streaked with white, her skin wrinkled and leathery. The woman’s clothes hung off of her, far too loose in most places. While it was mid-June, she wore a long coat over it all.
She lifted her head and smirked. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me.” The woman opened her coat, revealing the stylized grip of the custom gold handgun that once belonged to the notorious Alain Lefebvre.
“Hariasa,” Maxim hissed. She had been one of his best suppliers, but went missing for over a week now, if this was indeed the vampire known as Hariasa.
“What kind of greeting is that?” she asked, thin lips curling into a smirk. A shiver went up Maxim’s spine. While it was true that she had never harmed any of his compatriots, he had heard of the way she handled the rival gangsters she had been sent to assassinate. The vampire was cold, cruel, and calculating.
Luckily, she did not wait for him to respond. “Come now, I haven’t got all night.” She rolled up her sleeve and Maxim stuck in the needle. As her blood flowed, she continued to speak.
“The thing with vampires is, when we die, we come back. Usually worse for wear, mind you, but we come back. You humans, even you so-called blood thieves, however, are a different story.”
Dark eyes, framed by wrinkled bags, glared up at Maxim as Hariasa’s voice began to take a more sadistic tone.
“Rumor has it that your boss contacted Mircea about a deal. I want you to pass on a message. Get this into your head and don’t screw this up.” The vampire bared her fangs.
“If your boss decides to identify us, your loyal suppliers, and feed us to the wolves just so the ‘Blood Hunters’ stop killing you off, we will start.” She rolled up her sleeve and took up her cane.
“Oh, and one more thing. You see, in the vampire society, we’re the ones who are the bad guys. Keep that in mind.” Hariasa turned away and shuffled out of the school. She flicked her wrist in the air.
Three zombies broke through the window behind Maxim, groaning as they shuffled toward him. The useless lumps of flesh could not kill him, likely would not even wound him, but they would ensure that he understood the message.
“You have no idea the trouble I went through trying to find you.” The crackled voice of an old woman broke the silence. “It’s a good thing I have friends in low places, or else I never would have thought to check here.” She moved from the shadows into the pale light offered by a window. The old woman was hunched over, supporting herself with a cane. Her wild brown hair was streaked with white, her skin wrinkled and leathery. The woman’s clothes hung off of her, far too loose in most places. While it was mid-June, she wore a long coat over it all.
She lifted her head and smirked. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me.” The woman opened her coat, revealing the stylized grip of the custom gold handgun that once belonged to the notorious Alain Lefebvre.
“Hariasa,” Maxim hissed. She had been one of his best suppliers, but went missing for over a week now, if this was indeed the vampire known as Hariasa.
“What kind of greeting is that?” she asked, thin lips curling into a smirk. A shiver went up Maxim’s spine. While it was true that she had never harmed any of his compatriots, he had heard of the way she handled the rival gangsters she had been sent to assassinate. The vampire was cold, cruel, and calculating.
Luckily, she did not wait for him to respond. “Come now, I haven’t got all night.” She rolled up her sleeve and Maxim stuck in the needle. As her blood flowed, she continued to speak.
“The thing with vampires is, when we die, we come back. Usually worse for wear, mind you, but we come back. You humans, even you so-called blood thieves, however, are a different story.”
Dark eyes, framed by wrinkled bags, glared up at Maxim as Hariasa’s voice began to take a more sadistic tone.
“Rumor has it that your boss contacted Mircea about a deal. I want you to pass on a message. Get this into your head and don’t screw this up.” The vampire bared her fangs.
“If your boss decides to identify us, your loyal suppliers, and feed us to the wolves just so the ‘Blood Hunters’ stop killing you off, we will start.” She rolled up her sleeve and took up her cane.
“Oh, and one more thing. You see, in the vampire society, we’re the ones who are the bad guys. Keep that in mind.” Hariasa turned away and shuffled out of the school. She flicked her wrist in the air.
Three zombies broke through the window behind Maxim, groaning as they shuffled toward him. The useless lumps of flesh could not kill him, likely would not even wound him, but they would ensure that he understood the message.